Paris, 24 January, 1998
Every American alive when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, TX. in 1963 remembers what he or she was doing at that particular moment.
I know I do!!
I was a 5th grade student at Ferncrest School on Gentilly Blvd. in New Orleans. I don't recall what subject we were studying just then, but I do remember the characteristic voice of our school principal, Mrs. Louise B. Charitat, as it came over the school intercom, interrupting what was otherwise a quite normal school day:
"YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE..."
She would always preface this announcement by blowing or breathing into the microphone, and everybody would automatically stop what they were doing and the school would become as still as a tomb. All of us would be good little boys and girls, and would listen attentively to her usually pompous pontifications.
But it was different today; her normal commanding voice now was uncharacteristically strange and nervous. After this initial attention announcement, there was an ominous silence that seemed to last an eternity. Mrs. C. NEVER had to struggle for words. We all knew there was something radically wrong.
In an strange, quivering voice, this usually strong, authoritative lady announced that news had reached the office that the President of the United States, John F. Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.
My heart sank. I was a loyal American, and this was indeed a national catastrophe, and one of the First Magnitude! The pain was deeper still because I had been an avid supporter of Kennedy during the 1960 elections. In January of 1961, I even stood shivering in bitter cold on a snow-covered Pennsylvania Avenue by the Capitol the night before to participate in pre-inauguration activities, and the next day delighted to see the inauguration parade pass within a block of my apartment house. I remember being disappointed that the newly sworn-in president did not make it as far as 19th St, NW.
I did get to see him when he visited New Orleans in May of 1963. That was only six months ago, I thought. As I pondered this sad and tragic event, I was immediately shocked back to reality when I saw my schoolmates' reaction:
THE ENTIRE SCHOOL BROKE OUT IN CHEERS AND APPLAUSE!!!
It was as if we had won some championship or achieved some tremendous victory or goal.
It was just UNBELIEVABLE!! I thought I was dreaming - or better yet having a nightmare.
Of course, Mrs. Charitat and the teachers were all devastated and horrified at this shocking outburst. She heard the school's reaction and responded immediately: "I cannot BELIEVE you are cheering the shooting of the president!" She was most upset - and so was I.
The kids were all joking around, and, ever the class clown, I tried to joke back, but my heart just was not in it. I just sat there dazed for awhile - it was all surreal.
The teacher tried, I guess, to restore some sense of normality to the class, but the second announcement, one i dreaded, came soon enough:
"YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE..." Mrs. Charitat's voice was now cold and void of any emotion but sadness. "It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that the President of the United States had died."
My heart sank once again.
A few half-hearted cheers and gestures quickly arose and just as quickly ceased. More than ever, I felt a sickening sadness and a personal sense of loss. All I wanted to do then was go home and watch the news - to see what happened - how such a dastardly thing could have possibly occurred.
The next few days were indeed spent watching television. All normal programming was pre-empted. Media giants of that time such as Walter Cronkite, Chet Huntley, and David Brinkley were dwarfed by the very larger-than-life story they were now telling - and these seasoned professionals were humbled by the sheer totality that the felling of our nation's leader represented.
That night I stayed up late watching TV: On the television, filling the screen, was the image of the White House - its flag now flying at night - at half-staff. Somber music was playing. My eyes filled with tears on seeing the building I knew so well as a child now forlorn - without its residents.
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Somehow I missed the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald, but we knew in our heart of hearts that that there had been a conspiracy to kill the president, and we knew justice had not been done by Jack Ruby, when he shot Oswald.
Then there was the funeral. The slowly-beating muffled drums throbbing an ancient Scottish marching cadence. The band played "Eternal Father" and I will forever associate that old Naval Hymn with those sad days. The body lay in state in the rotunda of the Capitol, and then the funeral ended in Arlington Cemetery, right across the street where I had once lived. .
An Eternal Flame was lit. Programming resumed its normality. We went back to living our lives as we had done previously.
But something happened that fateful day in Dallas. Our nation changed that day. We were no longer the same. Camelot had fallen, our innocence as a nation was lost, and we desperately searched for new heroes to believe in.
Some of us found new heroes, only to see them felled in the same manner. In the late Sixties, we would watch the news as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and another Kennedy brother died. Years later Presidents Ford and Reagan were shot at as well, but did not die. Singer John Lennon, too, was even shot and killed by some - some nobody. Even the Pope was not immune. Sadly, these seemed like reruns - we had seen this all before, live on television, from Dallas.
As for me, ever the different one, I found a new hero who believed in building bridges between cultures and nations. BRIDGES - NOT WALLS. Anwar el-Sadat of Egypt defied many of his own people and chose peace over popularity. He, too, was felled by assassins bullets, which came from the very ranks of those who were supposed to protect him.
So much for heroes.
I may have been just a "punk kid" back then - as I was often called - yeah, just a kid... but my feelings were deep, and I knew what was going on in the world. For just a few, brief days, our divided country was one.
I grew up a lot that day - - - the day the nation cried.
NOTE: My working title for this article was "The Day the Nation Cried." I only just now discovered that there was another work out there with the same title: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0244554/
It used JFK in the title as well, but inasmuch as these works predate mine, I have changed the title.
I tried "The Day our Innocence Died" but that, too was already taken.
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